Chapter Six #3
“I heard from Thomas that you have redecorated some of the rooms here, Fanny,” Aunt Olivia said, smoothly moving the conversation away from Elizabeth.
“This room is lovely. Would you mind showing me what you have done with the others?” She raised her eyebrows and gave her niece a look.
“I believe a little stroll about the house while the horses are resting would be just the thing.”
Mama stood, her face awash with pleasure. “Of course, Aunt Olivia. Girls, will you join us?”
Papa stood as well. “I hope you will all forgive me if I leave the delights of wall hangings and chintz to the female delegation,” he said with a smile. “I shall be in my bookroom. Come find me on your return, if you please.”
“Of course, Papa,” Jane replied as she stood.
Mama took the lead through the drawing room, two sitting rooms, the dining room, and her own chambers. She pointed out the new rugs, linens, window coverings, the wallpaper she had men come to paint in very specific shades of blue or yellow or brown. Aunt Olivia was unfailingly polite.
As they passed into one redecorated room after another, Jane and Mary exchanged glances, concern in Jane’s expression, exasperation in Mary’s. Elizabeth felt a little comfort in knowing she was not the only one who found the extent of these expenditures rather ill-conceived.
“You have an excellent eye for color, Fanny,” her aunt was saying as Mama discussed the different shades of brown for the walls in the second sitting room, which were to be light, not dark, but not so light as to be unnoticeable as brown.
Rather, Mama concluded, it was to be the shade of tea with milk.
Elizabeth had to admit that the rooms were beautiful.
Her mother had an artistic flair for decorating; the rooms were warm and inviting, demonstrating wealth but without bowing to current fashions that were so fleeting.
At least her mother realized that she would not be able to redecorate for some time and had chosen more classic designs.
Still, she wondered why Papa had allowed her to change so many rooms at once.
It certainly would have been wiser to confine the spending to the public rooms, where their guests were so often entertained.
This is not your house, Elizabeth, she warned herself.
It is not up to you how your parents spend their money.
Given her aunt’s revelation in the carriage, though, she could not help but feel some irritation.
Whatever happened, she suspected that it would be her responsibility to see to her mother’s care.
Meanwhile, Mama was spending money they did not have for a house that would not remain hers after Papa died.
She wondered if Papa had yet made the repairs to the dower house they had discussed after the funeral.
She rather guessed that he had not. Perhaps she could convince some of the men on staff at Kensington to come up over the summer and see to the work if she paid them a bonus for the travel.
Or would it be better to hire locally? She tried to stop the whirl of her plans by reminding herself that Papa was in good health.
“What are you thinking, Elizabeth?” Mary whispered. “You have not yet said anything.”
“Mama’s designs are wonderful,” she said quietly.
“They are,” Jane agreed, with only a trace of anxiety in her serene smile. Kitty listened to her mother and nodded in all the correct places. Lydia had interrupted Mama and been escorted upstairs by Mrs. Grover.
“They are needlessly extravagant,” Mary replied bitterly. “She should not have redone so many rooms, and once begun, Papa did not stop her.”
“Mary,” Jane admonished her, though her voice was gentle.
“It is the truth, Jane,” Mary replied.
“It cannot be changed, however,” Jane told her sister, “and we should at least enjoy the rooms.”
Mary shook her head but said nothing.
The tour was concluded within the hour, and the ladies returned to the drawing room where Mr. Bennet joined them. Farewells were made, and Papa left to see whether the carriage was ready. Elizabeth excused herself to walk Aunt Olivia out.
“Aunt,” Elizabeth asked thoughtfully as they approached the front entrance, thinking about the rooms, “does Papa know about…?”
Aunt Olivia shook her head. “No, dear. Just your uncle and me. Of course, as our trustee, John knows. Now you know.” She paused.
“Even Francis is not aware, though I presume he suspects. If you are so inclined, you need not tell anyone, though most will expect you have at least a good dowry and the Kensington properties.” Phillip had persuaded his niece to spend less money on purchasing than she had originally planned, concerned about over-extending her funds on volatile food prices.
She had purchased land and had arranged to have the greenhouses built, but Uncle Phillip had purchased a house and the ten acres around it himself.
He had arranged for both repairs and some renovations, then left it to her in his will.
Elizabeth was quiet. It made her feel better, knowing her father had not allowed the expense with the expectation of help from her.
She would help, of course, were the worst to happen, but she did not wish to encourage her mother’s spending.
“I do not wish to say anything,” she told her aunt.
“Poor Francis was beset by every eligible woman in London. Fortunately, Anna caught him.”
Her aunt nodded seriously. “You are a wise young woman, my dear,” she said, kissing Elizabeth’s cheek and then staring at her unblinkingly. “My Lizzy,” she breathed as she embraced her niece. “I shall miss you, dearest.”
Elizabeth frowned. Aunt Olivia was behaving sentimentally. She was kind, but she was rarely sentimental. That had been Uncle Phillip’s office, at least with the two of them. “I could come with you,” Elizabeth replied hastily, already making plans to retrieve her trunk from upstairs.
“No,” Aunt Olivia said firmly, the emotional moment over.
“You will stay here and visit with your Bennet family. Her Grace has graciously offered to remain in London with me until John and I finish our business. You will stay here. You will show your mother and father how well you have been raised. You will lead Kitty and Lydia into adventures, and you shall deepen your friendship with Jane and Mary. Those are your orders.”
Elizabeth suppressed the urge to throw a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Aunt Olivia gave her one more sharp nod, then turned to mount the steps into the carriage with her footman’s help. “Write to me, dear,” she called. “Enjoy yourself.”
Elizabeth held up a hand in farewell as she watched the Russell carriage roll away, then took a deep breath, released the air, squared her shoulders, and returned inside.